A Day at the Races
by OrangeShipper
Summary: Fluffiverse fic! Mary and Matthew go to the races. Mary is bored. Matthew's wearing a very attractive new suit. Massive smut ensues. Rated M with good reason!


A/N: _A Fluffiverse fic. To give this some background, Silvestria wrote a drabble over on the M/M Monday Madness LJ community in which Arabella, Julia and Lizzie (a little older) came across some photos of their parents at the races, some years before. Matthew had worn a brand new suit, which mysteriously got ripped and was never worn again... _

_Well, I was challenged to write the M-rated version of just how his suit got ripped! This is the product of a distracted afternoon and a 40 minute drive home to think about it._

_I warn you now, it's pure and absolute smut - read with care! _

_I'll now return to the paper bag over my head I've adopted as a habitat as a result of writing this! :)_

_Erm... Enjoy..! _

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><p><strong><span>A Day at the Races<span>**

The atmosphere was full of excitement, there was no doubt about that; people and horses were milling around and a buzz of chatter filled the air. Shouts and cheers rang across the wide open space to the thud of hooves, mingled with cries of disappointment as a favourite went out. There really was nothing like the races!

But it was now late afternoon, and Mary was tiring of it. Not a single horse that she'd wanted to had won (all of Matthew's had, naturally), you really couldn't see all that much from the spectator boxes anyway and there was an indeterminable wait between each race. She was restless and, if she was honest, far more taken by her husband in his, frankly _delectably_ attractive, new suit. It was not the suit that was attractive of course – well, it was actually; a light linen suit with a pale check pattern that flattered his golden hair – it suited him so well, sat just right across his shoulders… She shook herself and linked her arm through his, trying desperately not to think that no matter how good he looked _in_ it, she knew he looked even better _out _ of it –

"Matthew!" She tugged at his arm slightly. He turned to face her, grinning widely, and she smiled fondly at his excitement.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm terribly bored – I'm sorry, Matthew, but it's going to be an age still until the next race starts and I'm quite tired of being charming to everyone – why don't we have a look around?" She flashed him a disarming smile and blinked pleadingly.

He cast his eyes around at the activity all around them, then looked back to her with a smile. He had been enjoying himself, actually – much more than he'd been expecting to – but he couldn't refuse her anything.

"Yes, alright. Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know! Let's just wander and see, shall we?"

They set off happily arm in arm. It had really been a blissful day; the tickets had been a belated anniversary gift from her Aunt Rosamund, and it had been so nice to just be out and away and without the children for one day!

Meanderingly, they wandered all over the race grounds. It was an extensive area, filled with trailers and buildings and grandstands. Mary had fixated upon the idea of seeing the stables, so that was where they made their way. They were arranged in little blocks, with stable boxes facing onto central paths like corridors, ready to house all the participating horses for that day.

Mary stopped by a particularly fine black mare, removing her gloves and stroking its face.

"There, there," Matthew heard her murmur quietly to it. He shook his head fondly from a few steps away. "It is a shame you didn't win, you were going very well weren't you! If only you hadn't stumbled!" This particular horse had been Mary's first bet of the day, and she felt quite an attachment to it. After standing watching her amusedly for a little while, Matthew eventually grasped her elbow gently and ushered her on.

There were a few owners and jockeys milling around, though most had either returned their horses and left or had already collected them for an upcoming race. Mary and Matthew continued to make their way along the rows, getting further and further away from the main body of activity, until they ran out of horses and reached empty stables. Mary went and peered into one, leaning over the lower gate. She breathed deeply, the smell of fresh hay and soap filling her nostrils. Matthew sidled up behind her, placing an arm either side of her and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Are there horses to go in these, then, too?" he pondered, noticing the soft bed of hay covering the floor and freshly stocked manger, but no activity anywhere to be seen.

"I would imagine so, it would seem silly to have them prepared if not!" Mary twisted round to face him and draped her arms around his neck. "Horses racing this late in the day may only have arrived at lunchtime, and so will only be brought to the stables afterwards – I really don't know, Matthew! I am no race expert!"

She tired of the silly conversation then, and considered it a perfect opportunity to do what she had been wanting to do all day. She tightened her arms, pulling him down towards her and kissed him languidly, expelling a soft sigh as he returned the affection deeply. He uttered a quiet murmur of satisfaction, then pulled back, kissing the tip of her nose gently.

"I get the feeling you've been wanting to do that for a while," he smiled.

"I have!" She smiled back then frowned gently, straining forwards to reach his lips again and arched her back, pushing herself closer. Matthew gasped and drew back, observing the dark glimmer in her eyes.

"Mary… Surely not…"

"Why not," she murmured deeply, pulling him towards her again for more deliberate kiss. Her hands grazed over his shoulders and to the back of his head, her fingers delving through his hair and holding him to her. Unconsciously he responded, his natural instinct ruling him. He allowed the kiss to deepen for a blissful moment before he pulled back again, more forcefully.

"Mary. We couldn't possibly, it's – it's quite incomprehensible!" His voice came out breathlessly, entirely unconvincing. He protested in spirit alone, his body was already craving her, had been from the moment her arms had draped around his neck.

"Nonsense Matthew, it's not like we haven't before…" Her voice caressed him and he sighed, knowing already she'd be getting her way.

"That was different…" he muttered into her neck, even as he began to nip at it and graze her skin with his teeth. "That was in your father's stables where you'd already made quite sure there wasn't going to be anyone around."

"Don't be silly, Matthew, we're quite alone –" Her head was tilted back to allow his lips better access and her eyes had drifted closed. "The next race isn't for half an hour at least – no-one will be here until well after that…"

Even as she spoke he had reached behind her and slid open the bolt on the door. They stumbled inside and clutched each other, resuming their kisses with desperate abandon. Matthew clasped her face, holding her against him and she clutched at his shoulders, whimpering softly in need and longing.

"You," he muttered softly between kisses, "are really quite terrible…" And he loved it (and she knew).

"It's your fault entirely, Matthew!" she gasped against his lips. "That suit… It… suits you very, very well!"

"I wonder then, if you are so fond of it, why you seem so intent on discarding it…" he murmured against her as her hands edged his jacket roughly over his shoulders and off. He caught it with one hand – not wanting to spoil it on the ground – and tossed it over a hook on the corner of the wrought-iron manger, never removing his attention from her lips. His hands immediately fumbled to the buttons on her light summer coat, dealing with them swiftly and discarding it too. The familiar dull ache of desire and need was pooling in him, building steadily as she kissed him passionately. He groaned softly and trailed kisses across her cheek, flicking his tongue across her earlobe before whispering heatedly (it was really more a growl than a whisper), "would you care for the hay, or the wall, my darling?"

Mary let out a gasping moan at his voice humming in her ear, low with arousal. She dragged her head back slightly, a physical effort even for just a moment to pull herself away.

"Can you imagine trying to get hay out of my hair, Matthew – I'll have to be seen in public afterwards, you know!"

Her sentiment was rewarded but seconds later as her back slammed deliciously into the wall as Matthew pressed himself fiercely against her. His hands were bunching into her dress and dragging it up around her hips, desire burning heatedly all through him. Mary gasped and shuddered, tugging frantically at his shirt. She wanted him against her, warm and beating and passionate. Her husband – the thought still sent thrills rocketing through her. Having pulled his shirt free of his trousers, she reached up and loosened his tie and collar, attaching her lips to the warm, pulsing skin of his throat as he pressed more firmly against her. She could feel his need, felt his groan of longing reverberate against her skin, shivered as his hands skimmed over her thighs and hips. All thought of propriety was gone; nothing else in the world existed or mattered apart from him.

Sharp pangs of desire flitted right through Matthew as she sucked at his neck, her fingers dancing across the top of his belt and around his waist. He trembled against her, tasting her hot skin and feeling utterly intoxicated. Finally she had relented and undone his trousers, and he gasped at the feel of release, grunting softly as her hand dipped down for a moment. He eagerly pushed down her drawers, waiting until she had kicked one foot out of them before he gripped her hips and lifted her. She threw her arms around his neck and braced her back against the wall as he supported her, raising both legs and locking them around his waist before gently settling herself on him.

Matthew's head fell back; his eyes rolled upwards before closing in delight and he hissed a gasp through his teeth at the familiar, glorious sensation of his wife all around him. She smiled luxuriantly and tipped forwards to kiss him, and he groaned into her mouth and responded with a fierce ardour. He began to move against her, gently at first as he held up her weight, building quickly in intensity. Mary clasped his face and drew him towards her before linking her hands behind his head to keep his lips crushed to hers. It was exquisite and so intensely pleasurable it was almost painful; she had needed this all day and the sweet release was too much. The feel of his gasping moans into her mouth, of his hips rocking hard against her, was sending near continual waves of heat through her.

Suddenly he dragged his lips away and whispered raggedly,

"Can't… heavy…" His eyes were glazed and hooded and his cheeks flushed with exertion. He was on fire, and needed her so desperately. She simply nodded, panting shallow breaths as she uncurled her legs from his waist with his support and stood. Matthew stepped back, gasping sharply at the loss of contact, before grasping her shoulder and roughly turning her. Mary's lips curled into a sly, luxuriant grin as she braced her palms on the wall in front of her. Her eyes closed in anticipation and she whimpered softly in pleasure as he hastily bunched her skirts up around her waist and entered her again.

He grunted softly, pressing his lips heatedly to the back of her neck. He curled one arm around her waist, holding her tightly against him as his other hand dipped lower, further, skimming over her heat and making her gasp and writhe back against him.

"Matthew…"she breathed his name out in harsh, gasping breaths, utterly overcome.

"…love you," he whispered hotly against her neck as he built his movements into a steady rhythm.

Every breath was tearing from Mary in a whimpered gasp, rising in intensity from the changed angle and as he quickened the push of his hips against her. His fingers continued to tease at her and his lips were warm and moist on her neck. The combination of sensations made her knees buckle and her head swim. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut and she concentrated on the heat spreading through her, fingers clutching helplessly at the wall. Matthew's soft groans built in intensity along with his movements, and he quickened his pace as he began to feel her buckle and shudder around him. He was suddenly aware of their situation and raised his arm from her waist, clamping his hand over her mouth just in time as she moaned long and loud, biting down on his finger to stop herself. As often was the case, her ecstasy undid him and he quickened his thrusts against her, crushing her to him until finally he broke apart, shuddering and jerking and gasping into the back of her neck. He grunted loudly, burying his face in her shoulder as he rocked against her one last, sweet time before he sagged against her back, heaving ragged breaths and trembling all over.

They remained locked in this tight embrace, clutching each other desperately and gasping in their breath for a minute or two until their bodies had calmed and regulated. Matthew wrapped his arms tightly around her, hugging her closely to him and she fell back against him. It was too much and they carefully collapsed into the hay. Matthew twisted round and reclined against the wall as Mary curled around him, carefully rearranging her skirts as she did so. Matthew was still beyond capable thought; his head lolled back against the wall and his eyes were closed, his lips parted as he sucked in air. Tenderly she reached down and arranged him back into his trousers, doing up the belt clasp before leaning back against him. She laid her head on his chest with a contented smile and curled her arm over him, feeling entirely relaxed and satiated.

"Thank you, darling," she murmured softly into his chest.

"No, no," he gasped. Mary giggled softly; she utterly adored him like this. "Thank _you_, my darling Mary…." His arm draped over her shoulders affectionately and he kissed the top of her head – her hat had fallen off at some point in their passion. She stretched up, folding her arms on his chest to kiss him properly, and they shared a slow, deep, tender kiss; one full of utter love and adoration and gratitude.

They lay like this, languid and satisfied, content in each other's arms, for some time. In truth they lost track of it; the world beyond seemed so distant and irrelevant to them now.

Until, that is, they heard the sound of distantly approaching hoofbeats and footsteps.

"Matthew!" Mary hissed, leaping up suddenly."Get up!"

Startled from his contented stupor, Matthew groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face, pushing himself to his feet. His eyes widened as he realised what a state he was in.

"Oh, God…" He hastily stuffed his shirt back into his trousers, tried to straighten his tie, his haste making it all the more difficult. Mary's hat and coat were already replaced – how did she do it so quickly?

"Come on!"

The sounds, joined by muffled voices now, were getting closer. They dashed for the door, before; "Matthew, your jacket!"

"Blast," he muttered. It was slung over the hook at shoulder height on the manger. He reached out and tugged it, but of course, it was caught. "Blast! Blasted thing won't bloody come off!" Matthew exclaimed with increasing panic as he tried to release it, and frustration from having been so swiftly disturbed.

"For goodness sake, Matthew!"

Mary turned and grasped it, giving a sharp tug – it tore off suddenly with a loud, rending rip. She gasped in horror. His beautiful new suit jacket! She stared at it in her hands, a large tear in the shoulder.

"Oh never mind that!" he whispered harshly as he grabbed her hand. The stable they were in was on the end of a row; they ducked out of it and around the corner just in time as a group of trainers returned with a horse from the race that had obviously just finished. Matthew winced as they heard the stable door bang shut – heard the men stop in silence for a moment – but they seemed to think nothing of it. He released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Well," he grinned breathlessly, his heart pounding with exhilaration. "I think we had a narrow escape there!"

But Mary was staring downcast at his jacket.

"Oh Matthew dearest, it's ruined – I'm sorry – how on earth are we going to explain it to everyone, after making such a fuss over it!"

Matthew blushed.

"I, er… I'm not sure, darling… I suppose it's not recoverable?"

Mary shook her head sadly, wiggling her fingers through the large, ragged tear. Her aunt Rosamund, and her mother, were going to have a field day… She'd been going on about Matthew's new suit to everyone, and everyone had agreed it was a fine, handsome suit and now they couldn't possibly… Oh.

"I'm afraid not. Oh Matthew, what a shame…"

She blinked as he took it out of her hands, tipping her chin up towards him with a mischievous, knowing smile.

"Do you know what, darling… I really – don't care."

And he kissed her, thoroughly and sweetly, until swiftly she forgot all else and realised that she really, really didn't care either.

**Fin**

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><p>AN: _Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I would really, REALLY appreciate any feedback on this - I've never written anything smuttish in the least before aside from RPs (and never to this extent!) and I'm really very nervous that I've just scared everyone off my writing now! Sorry for being so honest about it, but - I'd really love to know what you thought, so any reviews would be HUGELY welcomed (even more so than normal!)_

_*returns under paper bag* Thank you! :)_


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